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|I|S|S|U|E| |8|
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Contents:
Rainy Day Thingz - by B&N
Portrait of the Cog as a Young Cog - Cog
Santa Claus and The North Pole Army vs Poseidon's Agents - BMC and Komrade B
Some times you just have 3 articles that are so good that you don't need to
put any more in. Some zines do this often, we have seen it. Just ask
everyone. When it comes to literature you need goodness. TRIPE.
Enjoy your magazine.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rainy Day Thingz
by B&N
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is our list of things we like to do on a rainy day, and there
are plenty of those here in London. It is not intended to be a top ten list,
or anything humourous. Keep in mind that it is a big step for us to go into
this detail about our personal lives. This is just the way we are, so please
don't criticize our ways.
*Buy umbrella
*Have a friend waiting on the roof of a building across from an old
folks home
*Burn old folks home down
*Have friend snipe old people
*Have other friend dressed up like fireman go in burning building
and kill other old people
*Write letter to Sara
*Cut lawn
*Run with scissors
*Dig a hole for 4 hours, fill the hole back up for the next 4
hours (approx)
*Collect pop bottles (bring a friend to hold umbrella)
*Throw bottles from balcony onto old people in cars
*Take bananas from outside so they don't get wet
*Put bananas under a heat lamp
*Eat bananas
*Save banana peels for a sunny day
*Eat an old man's brain
*Fix holes in socks
*Make a puzzle
*Solve a caper
*Go to Penguin Park and go on the Zipper
odO$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.$Obo.odO$|$Obo.odO$.odO$.odO$.odO$.odO$.odO$Obo
";P'
PORTRAIT OF THE COG AS A YOUNG COG d'
by: Cog ;P
d'.
.,;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;,"*,;
Hi, folks. I was a little strapped for ideas for a new article,
and BMC is cracking the whip double-time. I thought I'd be living in a
heating grate before too long, so I think I may have come up with something
that will save my "model-esque" physique from turning dark grey as a result
of the cold.
As of this writing, I've been working on the new N-Com website, which
should be up by the time you read this (if BMC actually includes this tome of
knowledge in an issue). I re-read all of the old N-Com Installments while I
was making the new "Archives", and I think I've realized what I've been doing
wrong. I'll list the articles, give an excerpt, and then I'll tell you what
I did wrong. Come on an' JUDGE IT WITH ME.
ANN LANDERS- By Cog
**never published**
Here's the main thing wrong with this one:
Volume in drive C is MAIN FOLDER
Volume Serial Number is 2465-15E1
Directory of C:\COM
LANDERS COG 78 02-12-98 4:29p
Yep. It's only seventy-eight (78) bytes. So here's the article in
it's entirety:
Ann Landers is an old bitch. So sue me.
There's the end. I could argue that since this was the first article
I'd completed, I hadn't hit my stride yet. I could say that, but I STILL
haven't hit my stride. Also, I started another article that same day that
turned out almost fairly decent...
MODERN CONVENIENCE- By Cog
Well, this is when I was working for Ralph's Confectioneries. I
think something must have pissed me off that day, because this article seems
fairly bitter (although not as bitter as the ones to come).
I don't mind this one too much, other than the fact that I've read it
over at least 50 times while doing the layout for it in the print magazine.
I do have some problems with some of the lines in it, though. For example:
"...it is a well documented fact that over 64.9% of all customers at
convenience stores are, in fact, pedophiles. See for yourself how many
people leave the stores with children)."
I really have a problem with that "64.9%" thing. I thought it was a
funny way of saying 65%, but it seems like the rock that encrusts the gold
brought out 'the mineshaft.
BOUNCERS OR DRONES- By Cog
The saddest thing about this whole article is that it is an
absolutely true story. Well, except for the part with the gunshots, the
disintegrating phone, and the bionic arm. But we really did lock our keys in
the car.
I remember not being able to figure out a way to end the story, so I
quickly finished it up with the action sequence. It seems Hollywood uses
this same technique. I do like the last line, though:
"Then someone asked us for i.d....."
I like the horror-story endings, and there's one that I've been
trying to work into an article for a long time. Don't worry, you'll know it
when you see it.
MY CHILDHOOD- By Cog
I love the poem I came up with for this one! I'm having it tatooed
on my face for Washington's Birthday, by the way. There's actually some
symbolism in this one, and even I don't fully understand it all. Not many
negative things to say about this one, other than the fact that this was
another case of writing a quick ending. Could you tell? I think it came out
fairly well, for once.
*FUN FACT!* Did you notice I replaced all the "ed"'s with an "'d"?
A POSSIBLE EDITOR'S COLUMN WITH GUEST WRITER- By Cog
My one and only attempt to get into the coveted "Editor's Note". I
think it worked out well. The reason it was my only attempt was that I've
never had anything to say before or since.
The "era of long distance writing" didn't actually last too long, so
I'm glad I wrote this while I did.
THE HERRING INCIDENT- By Cog
I really meant to put the year in there for "Clue", but I forgot to
do that before I submitted it. I hope my shortcomings are funny to you.
Well, I guess it's okay this way, too.
This article stemmed from watching the movie "Clue" (where they say
the bit about Communism and the red herring 4 times, I think), and after
having begun, not remembering whether herrings were birds or fish. I now
believe that there are both birds AND fish called herrings, but I don't care
to find out. So, basically this article is a feature-length excuse.
LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH IN SPIRIT- By Cog
THIS is where I got bitter. I finished this article less than a week
after I lost my job at Ralph's. It's a fairly humourless article, unless you
enjoy laughing at my shortcomings; and I hope you do. I prefer the second
part to this one. There's one part in this one, though, that's pretty
strong:
"...and I definitely don't miss those assholes I worked for. Fuck you, Ralph
Winterhalt, et family. Especially you, Rebecca Winterhalt, you whore of a
manageress. I'll bet you were really a man. Sick."
Isn't hindsight 20/20? In one way, I wish I hadn't named names, but
then again, I still hope they see it someday. I hear that the Rebecca
mentioned above is in Calgary now, so if you're reading this and you know
her, show her that line. Then bust her in the chops.
MECHANNIA!- By Cog
What a cool sounding title. This is another sad one, because it's
absolutely true. What's worse is that I wrote that article at the beginning
of September, the car went into the garage at the end of July, I still don't
have it back, and it's THE END OF DECEMBER NOW!! We're going on six months,
now.
I may have started to hit some sort of "stride" with this article...
LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH IN SPIRIT II : ELECTRIC BUGALOO- By Cog
This is one of my favourites. As you can tell, I started writing it
in the same style as the first "Lifestyles" article. The beginning and
ending are the same as they were originally written; however, the dialogue
section was actually originally written to suit that feel, with the pauses in
conversation between "TELLER" and myself filled with uncomfortable silences
and glaring. "TELLER" also originally tore into me when he found out that I
was cashing an Unemployment cheque. I'm glad I changed it, even if I did use
the cliche "baby-delivery" and "put the president on hold" things at the end.
Also, the reason I picked the name "Amy" was because it contained
three letters just like the other names. I couldn't think of a three-letter
word for Bank Manager, however. Maybe I should have used "ass"...?
IF I REVIEWED MOVIES, AND IF I WAS ALSO STUPID- By Cog
I wish there was a better way to convey sarcasm in text besides those
stupid "emoticons". I think the title says it all, though. Can you tell I
don't like Jim Carrey very much? It's just something about the way I am; I
think the moment you start playing with your ass cheeks, you should start
playing with loaded guns.
This basically sprung out of reading about the re-make of "How the
Grinch Stole Christmas". I mean, there's no way it can compare to the
original, so why bother? Also, I'm still pissed that Fuckface Carrey landed
the role in the Kaufman bio-pic; I would have much rather seen Nicholas Cage
star in it, since he at least RESEMBLES Andy Kaufman. Oh, well.
*FUN FACT!* If you haven't seen Blues Brothers 2000... DON'T!
I LIKE THE WORD "ABOLISH"- By Cog
I think this pretty much sums up this article:
"Sometimes you just need a premise. A premise, no matter how sad, is still a
premise. And it should be treated as such..."
I'm not too fond of most of this article. The lists went through
nearly 10 complete re-writes each. I don't know why I even tried writing a
"top 10" type thing, anyways. They rarely turn out well. Watch Letterman
for proof of that.
If I had to do the "Reader's Digest Condensed" version of this
article, it would basically consist of this:
::::.:::..::...:.. . . ..:...::..:::.::::
THE ABOLITION ARTICLE .
by: Cog :
. . . . . . . .. ..;
"Jesus Wept"
-The Bible
This is an unoriginal premise, and it should be treated as such...
What would the abolitionists do away with nowadays...?
Things that should be abolished:
5. Chris Farley's dead body
7. Music
9. Abolitionists who try to abolish other abolitionists (enough east coast-
west coast bullshit, you guys)
10. The environment
But what would abolitionists bring back...?
Things that should be UN-abolished:
2. Channel 1
3. Saturday Night Live '80
4. Greek gods, and some of the Roman ones (YOU decide!)
5. The Norse Valkyries
6. Alchohal
9. Raheem the Dream
10. RATT, who should then be violently abolished again, then murdered
If you would like to learn more about the subject of ABOLITION, there
are many informative books at your local lending library. If you're
interested in finding abolitionists near you, check your local Yellow Pages
under the heading "Abolition", or call our worldwide hotline number at
1-888-ABOLISH. Every sixth caller has a chance at winning tickets to see
Krokus live in concert! So if it's busy, keep trying!
...What can I say; I like the last paragraph. Also, I should explain
that "Channel 1" reference. I'm talking about Channel 1 on a TV set, which
seems to have mysteriously disappeared; probably having been commandeered by
The Icelandic Wermacht.
UNLUCKY THIRTEEN- By Cog
I'm still not sure if I like this one or not. I mean, it has a twist
ending (sort of), and I think it's funny in a strange way. Okay, I think I
like it now... but can I be sure?
My favourite days are 4, 5, 6, 9, 11, and 13. I suppose I could have
cut the story in half and called it "Unlucky Seven" (which still sounds
good), but it seems I lack any semblance of foresight. Also, I finally used
my favourite ending line ever: "THE LIVING END". It's from "Batman: The
Movie"(1966). See it if you haven't.
Try and put day number 7 out of your mind, by the way...
RON HOWARD + JEREMY - HOWARD = RON JEREMY- By Cog
This article was originally titled:
"RON JEREMY + RON HOWARD = RON RON JEREMY HOWARD - RON HOWARD = RON JEREMY"
...but BMC said it wouldn't fit. Nearly everything in this article
is true. In fact, everything but the "Caroline in the City" info is true.
It's an interesting experience looking for info on Ron Jeremy on the web. I
had to sift through a Hungarian page to get alot of the info for this one.
The sad part about that is that I don't know of any software that translates
Hungarian, so I did it myself. I think congratulations are in order.
Once again, here was a case of not knowing how to end an article.
Apparently in the throes of madness, I chose a lame joke as the closer. I
had run out of information, and had nothing left. I suppose I could have
drawn an ascii picture of Ron, or perhaps I could have mentioned MoOn
mOnsTarz or Zombies (which seem to be disturbingly under-represented in my
writings). Ah, well.. It's some of the most extensive info on Ron's life
that you'll ever find in one place, so deal with it.
And Now,
My "Gladiator Monkeys"
For those of you not in the know, we measure The N-Com articles on
an ever-varying chart. It goes something like this:
Platinum, Gold, Silver, Copper, Tin, Lead, Peanut Butter, and finally...
"Gladiator Monkeys"
It's named after an article by Physicon (Phillgay), assisted by
Gnarly Wayne. It's a story which has all the logic of a waking dream
brought on by the scarlet fever. It holds about as much joy for the person
unfoutunate enough to read it, too.
I have no idea why I'm including this here (perhaps because, as I've
mentioned, I have no foresight), or why I wrote it in the first place. I
guess it will stand here as a reminder of how NOT to write.
So without further ado, here is a composition which will never be
published on its own. I give you...
THE BOY WHO HATED TIME- By Cog
This is the story of the little boy who hated time. It's a story
you've probably heard many times before, but I'd like to regale you with this
retelling, anyways...
One day, little Gerald McPete awoke to find that something had
happened while he had been sleeping: Time had passed. Not just a minute or
two, either, but hours! Little Gary didn't like this at all.
"Grant! Time for breakfast," his mother called up the stairs.
"Mom! I hate time," George called down the stairs.
Greg's mother then promptly marched up the stairs and beat him within
an inch of his life with a 1/2" PVC pipe.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you!!!" Gepetto shouted. He exclaimed this
with such force that bits of throat were flying out of his mouth!
"Step up and we can go round and round," his mom calmly stated.
FIGHT SCENE
-----------
WIDE SHOT
G. steps up to mother. Looks her in the eye. We can sense the tension
between them here.
We see a TIGHT SHOT of G.'s eyes... unwavering. Camera pans down to his
watch. Camera pulls back quickly and shows G. taking off his watch with
disgust. In SLOW MOTION he throws the watch into his mother's mouth.
Still in SLOW MOTION, she begins to chew it.
Shot from ABOVE the scene, G. on the right. No longer in SLOW-MO. All is
dark, save for a single spot lite on the scene. G. takes out a pre-WWI
German handgun (This was given to him by Nero by means of time travel. This
will be made clear in the sequel, and will also establish just why G. hates
time. In the forthcoming prequels, this will be expanded on even more, as
the story will be told in brief flashbacks in following movies; but the
prequels will tell the story as it's happening.
Other possible ideas for consideration in either prequels or sequels have
been to explore the reasons that G. is filled with so much hatred. Could
it be that his father was murdered by the cast of a high-wire act?
...I have NO idea why I went into that script bullshit. I don't even
know why I kept changing the kid's name every time it was mentioned. I DO
know that I ran out of names, which is why he's simply called "G." in the
script portion. I think this should have served to let me know it was a bad
idea. This is as far as I wrote, since I realized that it was turning out,
well, very badly. I was trying something different, and I vow never to do
that again. I'll stick to the types of stories that I've been doing so far,
I SWEAR! I can't apologize enough. BMC: if you need to edit something out
for size, make this section your first candidate for cleaving.
Ahh, hell. Might as well critique THIS article.
PORTRAIT OF THE COG AS A YOUNG COG- By Cog
Looks like I STILL don't know how to end an article properly.
THE LIVING END
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Santa vs Poseidon
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
History is emphasized in Atlantean schools. It is important that
the youth are educated in the proud history of the great underwater kingdom.
The stories usually involve the great monarchs, such as Uranus, Chronos,
Poseidon, and Namor, but while tales of the victories of the kingdom are
always in abundance, the talk of the dark days of Atlantis has classically
been considered to be taboo. One reason for this is that the kings have
generally not allowed anything that could be considered as damaging to the
ideal of patriarchal infallibility. The other reason is that while the
royal tales have been fairly well documented, the other stories have sketchy
details and may not be completely factual. However, in recent years, with
the throne falling into the strong arms of the most beloved king in
Atlantean history, these tales have become part of the curriculum.
One of the incredible tales that has recently entered the
schoolhouses is "Namor versus Santa." Some historians claim that the story
is completely fabricated, but some give credit to it. The story begins in
the last year of Namor's reign:
Through Namor's reign, he repeatedly proved himself to be a dishonor
to Poseidon's legacy. He drank, lecherized, and had more cupbearers than
was the norm at the time. He mismanaged the kingdom and the economy slowly
drifted down toward bankruptcy. Though the economists were nervous and the
advisors were furious, the people of the kingdom absolutely worshipped the
drunken king. Namor was not concerned with the productivity of the guilds
or the merchantry, and this disconcert was passed down through every strain
of the industries.
Somewhere above the water existed a man of renown for being a
generous giver of gifts. Though the land-dwellers claimed that he was a
bearer of good things, he had never made an appearance in the underwater
city of night. This aroused suspicion in the Atlanteans, and the suspicion
grew into distrust. If he were so magical and so giving, why would he
ignore the children of Atlantis' needs? Why didn't they ever get a stocking
full of MooN trInKets? This was obvious racism, and eventually the
Atlantean mobs grew to hate Santa Claus.
Santa Claus was a cruel old man who ran the world's largest factory
run completely off of slave labor. The working conditions were unfair, hours
were long, and disobedience was punished with physical discipline. Many of
the elves died under Santa's merciless reign, and the survivors prayed for a
merciful end to miserable life. One day, as an elven hunting group was out
spear fishing, a seal swam up out of the water and told the elves that he
was an Atlantean diplomat. As they gathered around and listened, the seal
told them about the system of government in the underwater kingdom. He
explained the complicated trade policies to them and they were all
mystified. They listened to his information and anecdotes until the sun was
down and it was too late to get any more fishing done.
As they went back toward the village the seal told them about King
Namor, Poseidon, and Chronos, but when he told them about the fair working
conditions of Atlantis they were truly impressed and many of them planned to
defect to the fair city.
Realizing that there was nothing to eat that night, they were forced
to kill and eat the diplomat. The next day the elves went to Santa Claus
with news of the great Sea Bazaar that the seal had told them about. Aidan,
the leader of the elves, convinced Santa that if he were appointed as a
delegate to go to the bazaar he could turn a profit for the old overseer.
Santa agreed, and Aidan took an entourage consisting of a 20-elf cross-
section of the factory. Santa laughed out loud and schemed to himself,
thinking about how much money there was to be made. There was a fortune in
trinkets, and he was going to have it all!
Aidan had other ideas. He went to the sea capital with his
followers and they never came back. They ended up getting jobs in the great
Sea Bazaar, and they were finally appreciated. No longer having to hunt for
their food, they became healthy and were accepted among the creatures of the
sea just as the mooN monStars were after the first few years of hostility
and the early attempt at ethnic cleansing. Aidan ended up moving in with a
sea nymph named Dalila, and they had their first offspring, which happened
to be a fire-child. Fire-children are rare in Atlantis, so they gave him
the name of Ignatius, which means "fiery one."
When Aidan and his crew had been in Atlantis for a year, Santa sent
more elves to look for him. These elves never returned either, so Santa sent
a third group. This continued until he had lost a good 10 percent of his
workers. Production levels at the North Pole were at an all time low, so
the old man knew what he had to do. He put on his steel-toed boots and led
his finest military units to the city of Atlantis.
It was a lazy spring afternoon in the underwater kindgom, and Namor
had been spending the day reclining and drinking MooN colA. He called in
the court performers to play string renditions of rock and roll songs. It
was wonderful, and Namor laughed with delight. His bright blue eyes grew
wide and he cocked his head until his crown tipped back on his head. He
took the crown off and set it on the table next to his throne. As the
effects of the mOon coLa set in, he felt himself becoming more
knowledgeable. As he cracked open another shellful of it, the great doors
of the courtroom burst open and standing there was a very very angry man in
a red suit.
"How's it going, stinky?" asked Namor. "Ho Ho Ho not very fucking
good, you piece of trash!" replied Santa. The news that Santa brought was
very bad. First of all, he had formed an alliance with the MooN MonStarS,
and second, he was imposing a trade embargo on Atlantis. This meant that
the great Sea Bazaar would shortly be out of business and that Atlantis
would be losing its chief source of income. After Santa delivered the news,
Namor did not know how this would affect the kingdom, so he reiterated his
first question. "So how's it going, stinky?"
Santa decided not to respond to that comment with words. Instead,
he chose to answer with a hand gesture. He raised his hand slowly, very
slowly. He felt the cool water current against his hand as he raised it to
eye level, extending his middle finger and looking at Namor through it as
though he a hunter looking at his prey through the crosshairs of his rifle.
There was silence.
Claus held his hand there, shifting his gaze from Namor to the
raised digit. He had actually done it. As he realized the severity of his
action, a bead of sweat formed on his forehead and was quickly swept away by
the waters of the sea. He watched it float away, and then he turned to the
audience of the court. The faces were frozen as though they had performed
oral sex on a Gorgon. A maiden wept. Somewhere outside of the courtroom a
man in a soiled shirt laughed out loud. The workers were too shaken to
perform their duties and all of the institutions shut down.
Santa returned and rallied his armies. While he did that, the
Mermaid Mafia was formed and they began to run wild in the streets and halls
of Atlantis. Their game ran from selling drugs and prostitution to
bootlegging, software piracy and producing homemade MIDI raps. The
townsfolk feared them, but the morale in the Atlantean army was so low that
it was basically just the Weegie Knight fighting by himself. He was tough
and could break up a bar fight by himself, but there was no way he could be
everywhere at once. He tried his best, but as time went on the conditions
in Atlantis continued to deteriorate.
When Santa's forces finally struck, Atlantis was completely
defenseless. The armies strolled through the cities and towns as Santa
raped the women and plundered the treasuries. When he arrived at the throne
room this time, Namor was engaged in some sexual deviant acts that are too
lewd to talk about in this story. Santa was mildly amused, but after he was
done masturbating he murdered Namor and usurped the throne of Atlantis.
So many Atlanteans committed suicide that Hades couldn't even claim
them all. Life became terrible, and Santa began to subject the peasants to
the same cruel conditions that he had forced the elves to live by. Many
citizens had lost hope. Namor was dead, Poseidon was in retirement at
Olympus, the golden sons of Atlantis were on a mission to find Proteus, and
the Weegie Knight was missing in action.
Aidan had read the chronicles of Atlantis and heard the stories of
the bold battles between Poseidon and Proteus. He knew that without a great
leader the people of the water would never regain their freedom, so he
started organizing an army of workers. The workers were clumsy and not as
skilled as Santa's warriors, so they worked and trained hard but did not
make any plans to wage war.
Aidan and the rest of the elves had to lay low during that time, as
Santa. Fresh off of his victory began to consolidate his power in the
capital. Aidan and the other defecting elves knew that they could incur his
wrath should he notice them. Luckily Santa's elves looked similar to sea
elves save for the lack of webbed feet and hands, and lungs instead of gills.
The citizenry of Atlantis suffered terribly under the yoke of the
Christmas King, and they cried out! Cried out for a champion.
Unfortunately Atlantis was short one of those and so the demand was placed
on back-order.
Deep in the Great Sea Rift
"Just fucking great were lost and it's all your fault!"
"Why Prince B how is it my fault you're the one driving?"
"Shut up if you hadn't of eaten all the magic herbs that sea wastrel
was selling you wouldn't have been acting all strange and you wouldn't have
grabbed the steering wheel claiming you knew a short cut and drove us off
into that giant abyss!"
"Well you should know that we live in an ocean and there are no
short cuts in the ocean, so you should be looking out for me when I am in
this condition."
"Shut up"
The two continued driving off in search of their home at the City of
Night. Although they wanted to return home they were dreading having to
tell their father that they had failed in their mission to find Proteus and
find out how he was doing.
"Man Namor is going to be pissed. He tells us every time that we
fail in the missions that he gives us and then we beg him for another chance
and then we fail again. How is it the Weegie knight can find Proteus
whether he wants to or not?"
BMC replied, "Well we never did check out Cavercus and he is the
king of that sea shanty so that probably would have been a good place to
look."
"Ah man. Dad is going to be pissed. How about we drive out to the
Sugar mines instead and agitate the Sea Weegies?"
BMC grinned. "Sounds swell."
As the two arrived at the mines they intended to remain there as
long as possible to avoid the displeasure of their drunken father. Prince B
estimated that it would be about a week before they got ill from subsisting
on sugar and were abducted by the King's guard and taken to their father.
BMC wondered if it was wise to make themselves terribly ill from eating
nothing but sugar just to avoid their father's punishment.
"Are you kidding? Remember that time I stabbed you with a hot poker
and you lost a kidney? Dad was by your side day and night as you clung to
life and he was so worried that he completely forgot how we fell asleep and
let Proteus steal all those Royal White Weegie Bulls."
BMC remember and agreed that this was a good idea. As they began
eating sugar a man startled them and wondered what they were doing with
Santa's sugar? Prince L'Homme B demanded to know what species of elf the
man was supposed to be and that he reeked of a land creature. The elf
confirmed his belief and the Prince asked him how it was possible to breath
under water?
"Why I don't know but how is it you two can breathe huh?"
"Well for one thing we both have gills and you don't so as law
dictates you should drown!"
The elf realizing his peril did indeed drown. The Sons of Atlantis
were unaware of what their actions had achieved, but all of the land elves
through out the empire drowned including Aidan and his cohorts. Santa
screamed in rage from the royal palace as his royal guards died before his
eyes. All of this occurred without the Sons of Atlantis knowledge.
"You know B it might have been a better idea to find out why he was
underwater and guarding the Royal sugar mines instead of making it aware to
him that he could not survive under the water.
"Well I suppose that would be a logical plan, but as you may have
not noticed. He asked what we were doing with Santa's sugar..."
BMC confused by his brother's logic. "So we could have found out who
Santa was and why he has taken control of the sugar mines."
"Well I believe it's obvious that Santa has come below the ocean and
killed our father, and then he usurped the throne of Atlantis and put this
chap in charge of the sugar mines. Our friends and family are probably dead
or enslaved..."
BMC mulled over L'Homme's scenario and agreed. "Yes we must leave
immediately and free our city!"
L'Homme shook his head. "What, and not take advantage of all of
this sugar? I didn't float all the way here not to eat sugar and then
rescue a city. No I came to eat sugar and so did you, so sit down and get
busy!"
"Well perhaps we could eat some sugar but then we have to leave to
save the city."
L'Homme B was preoccupied with consuming vast amounts of sugar and
was paying his brother no mind. He noticed the moment of his silence, and
assumed that his brother had stopped talking. He thought it would be a good
time to add. "Uh what city."
BMC filled with rage grabbed a stingray by the tail. He then swung
it around and began using the stingray like a wet towel by snapping Prince
B's backside. He screamed with pain and began to flee his brother, but it
was all part of the plan, and BMC chased him off to Atlantis.
A few hours later they began to approach the capital. B was still
quite put out with his brothers blatant attack. "Why did you have to do
that? Man we had all that sugar it was so good I wish I was eating it right
now!"
"Shut up already we are here. Lets scout around and see what is
going on in the city."
"Good idea you do that and in the mean time I will just swim in
through the front gate, so I can begin whoring, and drinking."
BMC made a grab to stop his brother but he was too slow. His
brother was speeding towards the city gates, and he could not be saved.
"Come back you fool remember the city has been seized by evil
forces. You said so yourself. Come back!"
B turned around and laughed. "I was just making that story up,
besides how often am I right? I don't want to skulk and prowl. If there
are enemies inside I will just use my mind blow attack."
BMC shook his head and waited for the ruckus to ensue. He heard
nothing, but he decided to wait.
He waited for nearly a week before he got up the nerve to follow his
brother into the city. As BMC entered the city he discovered it to be
deserted. Confused he searched for his brother. He checked the Atlantis
Tavern and of course found his brother. He found him passed out over a
chair in the back. BMC noted that he had really tied one on.
"Wake up you fool where is everyone, and why didn't you come and get
me?"
B grimaced and sat up. He ran his hand through his messy hair and
removed the gunk in his eyes before replying. "I thought you were still
'scouting' the city, besides I was busy at the palace sitting in the throne.
Did you know the throne is comfortable?"
"Oh my God you didn't did you?"
B smirked and his face reddened before saying. "Alright you got me
I masturbated on dad's throne. I always wanted to what's the big deal. I
found out Santa's army mysteriously died and he decided to flee the city
rather then find out what killed his troops."
The brothers decided a huge celebration was in order. They swam in
Marvin Gaye and he performed the citizens favorite covers of Christopher
Cross songs, and everyone danced late until the night and all through the
following day and when they were finally done they experimented with their
sexuality and lived happily ever after.
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|T|R|I|P|E| Issue Eight - September 24th, 2002
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website = http://scene.textfiles.com/tripe/tripe.txt